“The United Kingdom’s most challenged grand prix competitor.”
That pronouncement, emblazoned in imposing lettering across the expanse of an open magazine spread, served as the initial point of contact between readers of the August 1992 publication of Car magazine and Perry McCarthy. Positioned on the opposing page, a straightforward artistic composition featured McCarthy in standard attire – excluding a protective helmet – situated at the foot of an ascending framework, eyes directed upwards as the structure disappeared from view.
The subsequent page revealed a direct visual representation of the individual himself. This may have foreshadowed his subsequent persona as ‘The Stig’, the enigmatic pilot featured on the television show Top Gear: after publicly unveiling himself as The Stig to market his written account, Flat Out, Flat Broke, the broadcasting network dismissed him and discontinued the character’s presence on the program.
The dialogue, an engaging discussion by the esteemed Russell Bulgin, conveyed an insightful portrayal of an individual who had ultimately secured his entry into the highest level of motorsport – albeit with a remarkably dysfunctional organization, Andrea Moda. Intriguingly, concurrent with the distribution of the September edition of Car, McCarthy was engaged in what would prove to be his concluding grand prix engagement.
However, optimism still lingered. Perry possessed supportive relationships. Prospective benefactors were drawn to his proactive approach and were able to overlook his limited track record. Bulgin, during his prior engagement as sports editor for Motor magazine, had been among them.
Perry McCarthy, Andrea Moda S921 Judd
Photo by: Sutton Images
“My support for McCarthy was not driven by a conviction that he was exceptionally skilled, a potential successor to Ayrton Senna,” he articulated. “My assistance to Perry stemmed from his singular initiative in contacting me directly.”
Michael Schumacher achieved his primary grand prix triumph at Spa during that annum. Of lesser prominence was the anticipated dissolution of the ill-reputed Andrea Moda squad, subsequent to the apprehension of principal Andrea Sassetti on accusations of fraudulent conduct. Upon initially encountering the entirely dark S291 vehicle, McCarthy had wryly observed that the addition of handles would render it indistinguishable from a funerary container; when a bendable steering component propelled him into the protective barrier at Raidillon during trial runs, it nearly fulfilled this purpose.
This particular racing season was characterized by the dominance of Williams and Nigel Mansell, who overwhelmed competitors utilizing the reactive-suspension FW14B model. Benetton was assessing its own variant throughout 1992, but confronted challenges associated with atmospheric contaminants infiltrating the hydraulic apparatus, resulting in erratic vehicular behavior.
Rather than entrusting Schumacher with the experimental vehicle prematurely, and risking adverse feedback, Benetton assigned the majority of developmental oversight to test pilot Alessandro Zanardi. Following Zanardi’s unforeseen medical issue and subsequent unavailability for assessment at Silverstone, team director Gordon Message required a promptly available substitute with notable audacity.
McCarthy received the proposition and arrived the following day. According to his account in a recent segment of F1’s Beyond The Grid webcast, Perry demonstrated considerable competence despite his minimal exposure to Formula 1 – the Andrea Moda having completed only a limited number of circuits during the entire year – but committed an error in seeking guidance from Schumacher on improving velocity.
Evidently, no racer would willingly reveal their carefully cultivated methods for achieving superior speed, would they?
Benetton introduced its reactive suspension on the B193
Photo by: Motorsport Images
“I inquired of Michael,” McCarthy recounted, “’How do you execute the lap?’ And he provided a thorough explanation of the entire circuit.”
As Perry describes it, Schumacher primarily reiterated concepts that were already well-known to him.
“I merely acknowledged: Agreed. Agreed. Yes, yes. Agreed. Agreed. Agreed.’
“However, Michael then stated: ‘And I navigate the Bridge corner at full acceleration.’ I countered: ‘Negative. No, no, no. I’ve attempted that repeatedly, but it has proven ineffective.’
“Nevertheless, Michael maintained: ‘I negotiate that corner with full acceleration’.”
From 1991 to 1993, Bridge was regarded among enthusiasts as a “high-stakes” segment, comparable to the Eau Rouge-Raidillon stretch at Spa. For approximately two decades, the BRDC, the proprietors of Silverstone, had encountered difficulties in effectively controlling vehicular convergence at Woodcote corner at elevated speeds; during the 1973 British GP, Jody Scheckter triggered a sequence of collisions resulting in 11 participants failing to complete the event.
Michael Schumacher
Photo by: Rainer W. Schlegelmilch / Motorsport Images
The implementation of a chicane at that junction proved ineffectual, and the installation of another visually unappealing chicane further upstream in 1987 also yielded less than ideal results. While this chicane was designated as Bridge, it became incorporated into Luffield during the extensive modifications of 1991, and the Bridge designation was reassigned to a subsequent corner – the ambiguous right-hand turn transitioning into the short infield segment.
Paradoxically, in decisively resolving the Woodcote dilemma, Silvestone engendered a different predicament.
Following Abbey, this predominantly level circuit ascended slightly before descending as it traversed beneath the structure that lent its designation to the updated corner. It presented an obscured entry point – and an obscured exit, given that the track’s revised orientation closely bordered the elevated earth embankment on the driver’s right.
“That’s where I intend to procure a pass when I attend as a spectator,” declared Martin Brundle at the official launch, as documented in Autosport.
Those who heeded Brundle’s suggestion were rewarded at the British Grand Prix that year. Having confirmed his established reputation by impeding Ayrton Senna’s efforts to overtake him, Andrea de Cesaris encountered a suspension failure on his Jordan 191, arriving at Bridge with the vehicle disintegrating, having struck the barrier immediately before the overhead structure. Satoru Nakajima and Alain Prost narrowly avoided becoming additional casualties as they approached the area over the obscured apex.
By 1994, the approach velocity to Bridge would be lessened through the insertion of a chicane at Abbey, but for a brief interval, this specific corner served as an evaluator of ability and courage.
Andrea de Cesaris, Jordan 191
Photo by: Getty Images
“It truly affected me,” McCarthy acknowledged. “I surmised: ‘If he is capable, so am I.’ Yet inwardly, I was exclaiming: ‘I am incapable!’ I had attempted it, but the vehicle exhibited excessive movement.”
Eventually, he gathered the fortitude to maintain his accelerator engaged at the apex and at the initiation of the turn. Subsequently, he was compelled to counteract the subsequent oversteer at approximately 180mph.
“I nearly lost control,” he commented. “My responses were faster than Bruce Lee’s maneuvers in a martial arts film.”
Upon returning to the staging area to confront Schumacher’s engineer, Pat Symonds, McCarthy consulted the manual of standard racer justifications.
“I stated: ‘Pat, could we verify the pressure in the tires? I suspect a malfunction.’ Subsequently, he returned, knelt beside the vehicle, grinned, and inquired: ‘So, friend, it appears you experienced a brief incident, correct?’”
McCarthy naturally refuted any such occurrence, only to be met with evidentiary documentation.
“How curious,” Symonds responded, “as the telemetry indicates that you were steering in the opposite direction at 290 km/h…”
“Michael was responsible. He informed me that he navigates Bridge at full acceleration – thus, I replicated his action,” McCarthy maintained.
